Miracles Wear Black
by IcyWaters
Summary: When two children go missing on a frigid December night, it may take a miracle to save them. A story to honor the spirit of Christmas based on the Walt Disney Zorro series.
1. Chapter 1

Disclaimer: This story is based upon characters appearing in the Walt Disney Zorro television series. No copyright infringement is intended and no profit is being made. I don't own 'em, I'm just a fan wanting to keep the spirit of a favorite show alive.

Author's Note: My sincerest thanks go out to Ida Mirei for her continued encouragement, and to all who have left kind words for my previous works. It means a lot to me. Thank you.

* * *

**Miracles Wear Black**

**Chapter 1  
****"Tragedy"**

"Sit down, Eliseo." Susana Zavala shook her head at her oldest child. The rambunctious boy could not remain still inside the stagecoach. At the moment, he had his face stuck out the window, gazing at the hills. "Do not make me warn you again, mi hijo."

Eliseo frowned and plopped down on the seat. His sister grabbed her doll just before he sat on it. He folded his arms over his chest. The breeze tousled his thick mop of black hair and loose curls hung down over his forehead, giving him a rakish air befitting his eleven years of age.

"Do not pout. It is unbecoming a young man," she said, hiding a grin. He looked like the splitting image of his father, right down to the dimple on his cheek and the mischievous sparkle in his eyes.

"Why could we not stay in Los Angeles for the night?" he asked. "I want to meet el Zorro."

"You do want to make it to San Buenaventura in time to spend Christmas with your papá, do you not? If we had stayed, we might be late." Susana chuckled. "Besides, must I remind you el Zorro is a bandit? You should not wish to meet him when your father is sworn to capture all bandidos."

Only a few weeks prior, her husband received a promotion to the rank of capitán. With it came a new assignment as the commandante of the garrison in San Buenaventura. The orders required him to report immediately to the posting. They agreed after he got settled in, he would send for his family.

Susana's heart swelled with pride for his success, but she lamented they would not be spending Christmas together. Jeremías promised they would hold a belated celebration, but it was not the same to her. Too often, his duties as a soldier called him away. This year, she vowed to have her family together to celebrate the holiday, even if it meant keeping their plans secret from him.

Evangelina peered out from behind her doll with a shy smile. "Papá will be surprised to see us."

"Sí, he will," Susana replied. The coach hit a hard bump in the road and they bounced off the sides. She reached out to steady herself and shifted uncomfortably, rubbing her bulging stomach. The baby growing within kicked in disapproval of the rough road. She did not remember getting this big during her previous pregnancies and prayed this signified her child would be strong and healthy, unlike the frail infant her family buried who did not survive for even a week.

"Is she kicking?" Evangelina asked, moving to sit next to her mother.

"It's a he," Eliseo corrected. "I already have a little sister. I do not want another."

Evangelina crinkled her nose. "I already have a brother. I do not want another."

"Shush, you two," Susana admonished. "Whether a boy or a girl, we will love the little one just the same." Evangelina placed her small hands on the big belly, her smile growing from ear to ear when she felt the movement. Eliseo stuck his head out the window again and Susana silently hoped for another girl. She was not sure she would survive the antics of two sons.

"Do not make me tell you again, Eliseo. Put your rump in that seat."

"But there are riders following us," he replied.

"I want to see them." Evangelina jumped down and joined her brother, poking her head out the window. "One, two, three," she counted, "there are three of them."

"Both of you–" The stagecoach suddenly jolted forward, throwing Susana back against her seat. Eliseo rubbed the side of his head where he bumped it on the sill. She glanced out the other window and noticed the hills passing at a faster rate. A gunshot crackled in the air.

"Bandidos!" Eliseo exclaimed, his eyes growing wide in fear.

"Get over here now," she ordered, grabbing Evangelina's arm and pulling her closer. Eliseo dropped onto the seat across from her. "Over here, mi hijo."

"But, Mother–"

"No arguments!" He did as she instructed and Susana tugged him to her other side. More gunshots reverberated. With her arms wrapped protectively around her children, she swallowed hard, trying to calm her racing heart.

The coach bounced and shook and the Zavalas held on tight to one another. Rounding a curve in the road, it swayed dangerously to one side. Thundering hooves surrounded them and Susana didn't know if they were from the team harnessed up front, the bandits in rear or both.

She sent a silent prayer to the heavens above.

_Please forgive my foolishness, Jeremías. We should have stayed in San Luis Rey until you sent for us. I only wanted for us to be together. Please, God, do not let my children suffer for my mistake._

"Mamá," Evangelina's muffled whisper crept out from her mother's dress.

Susana kissed the top of her daughter's curly hair. "Shh, it will be all right, mi hija."

An earsplitting crack resounded in the small space and the coach jolted to the left. Peering over her son's head and out the window, she watched horses break free and race toward the hills. Tears trickled down her cheeks as a bump in the road sent them airborne.

The vehicle slammed into the ground, the momentum pushing it onward. Hitting another bump, splintering wood echoed amid the shouts of the bandits. The front of the coach lurched forward, digging into the earth, throwing the family across the confined space. Susana knew the wheels had shattered.

She latched onto her children as tight as she could. Keeping her head tucked down, they suddenly crashed into something solid. The coach flipped on its side, tossing them like ragdolls off the walls. They slid along the dirt until the ground disappeared from underneath and they dropped.

Susana screamed.

* * *

Padre Felipe wove a path toward the orchards between the many swing sets positioned on the grounds of the Mission San Gabriel. Children and adults alike delighted at swinging high in the air to celebrate the winter solstice, encouraging the sun to shine just a little bit longer on these short days. Colorful cushions fashioned by the talented seamstresses of Los Angeles added to the festive atmosphere.

As he continued walking, the glossy green foliage came into view. The Mission Indians were a flutter of activity on ladders. His children were busy picking oranges before the frigid nighttime temperatures could damage the crops any further.

"You are doing a wonderful job, Quirino," Padre Felipe complimented.

The young native in charge of the other workers smiled. "Gracias, Padre."

Several canvas bags were filled and a basket overflowing with fruit was set aside. "Be sure the oranges are distributed to all the families in the district who need them."

"I will, Padre." Quirino pointed to the basket. "We reserved these for the services tonight."

"Very good, my child," the padre replied.

The feast of the Immaculate Conception on the eighth of December marked the beginning of a holiday season filled with food, gifts and prayers. The mission held candlelight services each night and provided meals for those less fortunate. Now only two days away from Nochebuena, there was still much to do in preparation of the midnight mass. Then after Christmas Day, there was the feast of the Holy Innocents and the feast of Epiphany.

Oh, yes, there was much work to do!

Padre Felipe grasped the handle and lifted it with a grunt, slightly surprised by the weight. Quirino looked away chuckling. "It seems I am getting soft as a result of all the delicious treats. Perhaps I shall join you in picking more oranges later this afternoon."

"We would like that, Padre."

Returning to the main chapel, he neared the colorful swings when a carriage in the distance caught his eye. He stopped his trek, waiting for the visitor to near. The two horses halted and a young caballero dressed in a dark blue suit stepped down with his manservant in tow.

"Ah, Diego, it is a pleasure to see you. And you, too, Bernardo." He smiled and waved at the deaf-mute. "What brings you both to the mission on such a chilly afternoon?"

"Buenos días, Padre," Diego replied. He indicated the backseat with a flourish. "We convey good tidings from Cresencia and Maria."

As Padre Felipe peered inside the vehicle, a slight breeze lifted the mouthwatering aromas to his nose. Baskets were wrapped and carefully arranged. "So they are at it again, eh?" Every year, the two women fought for control of the de la Vega kitchen, whipping up all variety of cookies, candies and cakes. And every year, Diego and Alejandro distributed the extras around the pueblo.

"Sí, my father has quite the sweet tooth, but even he has his limits. He demanded they all be kept from his sight, or better yet, removed from the hacienda entirely."

The padre chuckled. "I thought Don Alejandro was getting a little fuller around the midsection when he visited a few days ago," his eyes twinkled, "but do not tell him I said that."

Diego raised his hand and grinned. "You have my word."

"May I?" At Diego's nod, Padre Felipe set the oranges down, pulled back a corner of cloth and snuck a cookie out. He savored the luscious flavors of honey and nuts. "This is heavenly."

"Cresencia and Maria could not ask for a higher compliment." Diego pointed to the oranges. "Have the frosts these past two nights done much damage to your crops?"

"We have been fortunate. The interior trees and those close to the walls have been sheltered. Only the fruit on the exterior edges have been affected, but those we can juice."

"Since this afternoon has not warmed up," Diego explained, "my father is afraid tonight may the coldest of the year. With our orchards on open land, he has every available worker plucking fruit."

"As are we," Padre Felipe responded.

Diego's gaze drifted away and his voice grew incredulous. "I do not believe it."

The padre arched an eyebrow at the change in the caballero's demeanor and followed his line of sight. A troop of about a dozen lancers advanced in their direction, the familiar round figure of their acting commandante at the lead.

"Sergeant Garcia could not have smelled the cookies that far away."

Padre Felipe failed to stop the laugh from escaping his lips. "You are terrible, Diego. The sergeant does have his talents." He winked. "I suggest we hide these treats as quickly as possible."

"Bernardo and I will take them around back to the kitchen." Diego made a series of motions with his hands and the manservant climbed into the carriage. Padre Felipe always marveled at how effortlessly the two men communicated. "May I take the oranges for you?"

"Gracias, Diego. I will remain here to greet the soldiers."

The caballero lifted the basket as if it were filled with feathers. The padre subconsciously rubbed his stomach; it seemed Don Alejandro was not the only one putting on a little extra weight. He would definitely help with the orchards later. Diego passed it to his friend, took the reins and disappeared around the rear of the building.

A few minutes later, the lancers and their mounts came to a halt. Behind them, Private Hernandez drove a wagon that appeared to be missing a side. Private Ortega sat hunched over in the bed with a horse tethered to the back.

Padre Felipe furrowed his brow. What trouble had they gotten themselves into?

"Oh, Padre, I am glad to see you," Sergeant Garcia exclaimed, clambering down from the saddle. "The mission was much closer than any rancho. I did not know where else to go or what to do. We were stunned to find the stagecoach driver dead, but we did not expect to find her."

"Dead? Her? What are you talking about, Sergeant?" Padre Felipe asked, his concern growing with each rambling word. He could not recall ever seeing the warm-hearted soldier so troubled.

Garcia motioned for the padre to follow him to the wagon. "We were returning from maneuvers when we discovered the stagecoach driver dead. While looking around for others, Private Ortega spotted her." The sergeant pointed to a pile of blankets.

Ortega offered the padre a hand and he climbed up. To his left was a bundle about the size of an adult man. He presumed this to be the body of the driver Garcia spoke of. To the right was an unconscious woman. Padre Felipe pulled the blanket away to get a better look at her. "Why is she strapped to a board?"

"The señora was at the bottom of a hill. We broke a side off the wagon and secured her to it in order to lift her to safety," Garcia replied, rushing his words together.

A soft smile spread across the padre's lips. The sergeant could be a strong leader when the occasion required it. He pulled the covers back some more and gasped. "Madre de Dios, she is with child!"

"Sí," Garcia squeaked. "We were unsure of handling the señora in fear of harming her further."

"Bring the wagon around to the residential hall," the padre ordered. He jumped down without waiting for assistance and directed Private Hernandez. When they reached the portico, he caught the attention of a young Indian woman. "Fetch some water and rags, Paloma."

As she hurried off, he opened a door. "Put the señora in here."

Garcia instructed his soldiers as they grabbed hold of the makeshift stretcher. "Gentle, lancers, gentle." Inside, the booming voice echoed off the walls. "Be careful, men, careful!"

They held the board next to the bed. Padre Felipe and Sergeant Garcia worked to untie the strips of fabric that fastened her to it. When the last knot was undone, Diego entered the door. Without a word, he helped move the ailing woman to the mattress.

Padre Felipe supported her right arm, bent at an awkward angle. Mud and scratches covered her face. The start of an ugly bruise colored her temple. Paloma returned with the water and rags and they both moved to clean the wounds.

"I will ride for the doctor," Diego offered.

"There is no need to, Don Diego," Garcia replied, ushering the privates out of the room. "I have already sent Corporal Reyes for Doctor Avilla. They should be here soon."

"Good thinking, Sergeant," Diego responded.

Bloodstains on her dress made the padre's chest tighten with fear for the señora's child. He pulled up folds of fabric and exhaled a breath he did not realize he was holding upon seeing the nasty gash on her thigh. Paloma also breathed a small sigh of relief. As they worked to clean the wounds to the best of their abilities, he listened to Diego and Garcia talking just inside the doorway.

"What happened, Sergeant?"

"The lancers and I have spent the past two nights on military maneuvers in the canyons up north. If I had known it would be so cold, I would have waited for another time."

"Please, Sergeant," Diego implored, "tell us about the señora."

"We were riding along el Camino Real on our way home when we encountered pieces of luggage scattered all over the road. I ordered the lancers to clear it away," Garcia explained. "As they were doing so, Private Sanchez found Gilberto, the stagecoach driver, dead in the bushes."

"He is wrapped in the blanket in the wagon?"

"Sí, Don Diego. The lancers continued searching for others. Private Ortega is the one who spotted the stagecoach at the bottom of a hill several hundred feet away. He climbed down and discovered the injured señora. At first, he thought she was dead, too, until she let out a faint moan."

"Do you recognize her?"

"I am afraid not, Don Diego. I have never seen her before."

"Nor have I," Diego said.

Padre Felipe chimed in from his place at the señora's bedside. "I have not seen her before, either."

"Did she have any papers with her?" Diego asked.

"Not that we found," Garcia replied. Galloping hoof beats sounded from outside. "That must be the doctor." He ran out the door and beckoned the physician over.

"What do we have here?" Avilla inquired, setting his medical bag on the nightstand.

After Padre Felipe gave him a quick summary, the doctor shooed the men out of the room, allowing Paloma to remain to assist in the treatment. They took up vigil at a bench a few feet away. Bernardo joined his master's side.

"Where is this luggage now, Sergeant?" Diego asked.

"It is still on the roadside," Garcia answered. "We had to leave it behind to make room on the wagon for the bod…" he cleared his throat, "the señora and Señor Gilberto."

"We should take a look at it," Diego surmised, "It may hold a clue as to her identity."

"Why would a señora with child be traveling alone?" Garcia chewed his lower lip, obviously distressed by the wounded woman's plight. "Where is her husband?"

"She may be traveling to join her husband," Diego pondered aloud. "There is also the possibility she is widowed and journeying to visit her family."

"The doctor will be in with her for some time," Padre Felipe said, breaking his silence. "He needs to set her arm, check on the baby and tend to any other injuries. We must pray for their wellbeing."

He guided Diego, Bernardo and the soldiers to the sanctuary, knelt before the Virgin Mother and made the sign of the cross. Clutching his rosary beads, he began. "Heavenly Father, we gather before you to ask for your guidance in this time of turmoil. A señora—a stranger—has come into our lives. She and her unborn child need your love and strength. Please watch over mother and child as we do our best to care for them. Amen."

A chorus of amen sounded from behind. Padre Felipe slowly rose to his feet. The group, with heavy hearts and bowed heads, exited the chapel and paced the grounds, awaiting news on the patient. Several privates transferred Gilberto's body to another room and began constructing a casket. Other lancers assisted the Indians in picking oranges from the trees.

Corporal Reyes and Bernardo sat together on one of the nearby swings. Padre Felipe, Diego and Sergeant Garcia eventually settled at the bench outside the door, each man afraid to speak, as if the slightest vibration would shatter the fragile hope they clung to.

After what seemed an eternity, the door creaked opened and Doctor Avilla emerged with a grim expression. "Señores," he greeted as they bolted to their feet.

Garcia was the first to speak. "How is she? Did we harm the señora when we moved her?"

Avilla's features softened at the soldier's open display of concern. "No, Sergeant. The señora would most certainly have perished had you not found her. You may very well have saved her life."

The portly soldier heaved a sigh of relief. "And what of her little one?"

Avilla frowned. "That is more difficult to discern, I am afraid. The señora suffered several injuries, including a broken arm and a blow to the head. A fever is beginning to take hold. She is drifting in and out of consciousness, and when she is conscious, is delirious." He rubbed his chin. "As for the child, I can feel it move, which is a good sign…"

"But?" Diego prodded when the doctor trailed off.

"I am concerned she may go into labor," Avilla replied. "She is far enough along the infant should be properly developed, but her injuries combined with the head trauma concerns me. I fear there may be complications if she gives birth in her current state."

Padre Felipe exchanged a knowing look with the doctor. He had delivered many babies upon first arriving in California, especially in smaller pueblos without access to medical care. "That will put both their lives in danger."

"Sí," Avilla nodded. "I would feel more confident if she awakens for more than a few minutes. At worse, there are surgical procedures to attempt saving the life of the child, but the mother rarely survives. Without intervention, the odds are they will both die."

"I do not envy your position, Doctor," Diego said softly, resting a hand on the man's shoulder.

"Do any of you know the señora? Her relatives should be notified," Avilla continued.

"We have discussed this," Diego replied. "We do not recognize her." He turned to Garcia. "Sergeant, we should inspect the luggage immediately."

"Sí, Don Diego," Garcia agreed, "I will round up my men."

"There is one more thing," Avilla said, halting the sergeant. "In her delirium, the señora has been muttering about her children. At first I thought she was speaking of the child within, but she continually refers to 'my children,' not child." He swallowed hard. "Did you find any other victims?"

Garcia's face paled and his eyes widened as the realization sank in. "S-She has little niños?" His knees wobbled and Diego reached out to steady his friend. "Were they with her?"

"I do not know the answers to those questions," Avilla replied.

"We need to get out there immediately," Padre Felipe urged. "You will stay here with the señora?"

"Of course, Padre," Avilla answered. "I have no patients requiring immediate care. I will remain as long as I am needed or until an emergency calls me away."

Padre Felipe smiled. "Gracias."

"Please ride with us, Padre," Diego offered, motioning for Bernardo to fetch the carriage while Sergeant Garcia gathered his men from their various tasks. The nippy afternoon turned even chillier as they set off northbound toward el Camino Real.

* * *

"That is what remains of the stagecoach." From the precarious overhang, Sergeant Garcia pointed out the wreckage at the base of the steep hill to Diego, Bernardo and Padre Felipe. He turned to his men who kept back for safety. "There may be little niños down there. Ortega, Sanchez, Herrera and Hernandez, you climb down and begin the search. Ibarra and Delgado, recheck the area where the driver was found. Corporal Reyes, lead the rest of the men in combing the roadside."

Reyes saluted, "Sí, Sergeant."

The pit of the caballero's stomach sank at the sight of the mangled wood and fabric. He peered over at the padre and saw his own horror reflected on the kindly features. Color drained from Bernardo's face. It was a miracle the señora was not killed on impact. And if she had children with her…

"Come, I will show you the luggage," Garcia said, breaking Diego's train of thought.

The caballero was grateful for the diversion. He was also proud at how well his friend handled the situation. For all the jokes made at the portly soldier's expense, he comported himself admirably in this time of crisis. Not even Zorro could conduct the lancers better.

The three civilians followed Garcia to a pile of rocks a few yards away where trunks of varying sizes were stacked. Diego knelt down and opened the smaller one on top. Inside he sorted through a few cosmetics and some personal items, but nothing that helped to identity the señora. He set it off to the side and opened the next trunk.

When he pulled out several feminine articles of clothing, Garcia coughed. Diego peered over his shoulder, suppressing a small grin when the sergeant's cheeks grew a rosy shade of red.

"Don Diego, we should not be digging in her…" Garcia struggled for the word, "unmentionables."

"Under the circumstances, I do not think the señora would mind," Diego replied. Pushing more pieces of clothing away, he found several colorfully wrapped gifts in the bottom. He held them up for the others to see. "Christmas presents."

Diego began peeling the paper from a hinged box about the size of three or four cigar boxes stacked together. Lifting the top, he discovered several wooden puzzle toys. "These are very similar to toys Bernardo makes for the children."

Handing the box to Garcia, Diego unwrapped the next gift, revealing a beautiful doll in a dark purple dress. "Look at the delicate needlework and the quality of the fabric. Our mysterious señora is not a poor woman." He passed it to Bernardo.

"If only this told us whether children were with her on the coach or if she was bringing presents to family members and friends," Padre Felipe observed, taking a closer look at the doll.

Diego picked up the last gift. From the size and weight, he presumed it to be a book. Sliding it out from the wrapping paper, a volume of William Shakespeare's works greeted him. He opened the cover and read the inscription, written in childlike handwriting. "To our papá. Feliz Navidad. With love, Eliseo and Evangelina."

"So they were with her?" Garcia asked in a trembling voice.

His stomach churning, Diego opened the last trunk, pulling out trousers and dresses in small sizes. "I do not know much about children, but it looks as if the boy is the older of the two, perhaps no more than twelve years of age."

Shouts from the hill had them running.

"What did you find?" Garcia called down.

Herrera held up a doll caked in mud.

"Oh, no," Garcia whispered. He turned to Diego. "Where can the children be?"

"Perhaps they were not hurt as bad as their mother," Padre Felipe concluded, "Frightened and alone, they wandered off to seek help, not realizing they strayed from el Camino Real."

"I will have my men expand the search area," Garcia responded. "We must find them before dark when the temperature drops." He glanced at the sky. "Not a single cloud. It will get chilly."

Diego studied the dress still in his hands. Something about this did not feel right. He strolled back to the luggage, examined the items once more and began putting them away.

"What is bothering you, my child?" Padre Felipe inquired.

"A stagecoach does not simply veer off the road and crash without cause." Diego rose to his feet. "Sergeant, you already explained how you and your soldiers encountered the luggage scattered in the road. Gilberto is an experienced driver. Why did the trunks fall?"

"I do not understand, Don Diego," Garcia replied, furrowing his brow.

Diego folded one arm over his chest and raised a finger to his lips. "How did the driver die?"

"He was shot." Garcia clasped chubby fingers over his mouth and his eyes widened at his words. "Bandidos! I forgot all about that when we discovered the señora. A thousand pardons, Don Diego."

Waving off the apology, Diego inquired, "Why do bandidos attack stagecoaches?"

Garcia shrugged. "They want to rob the passengers."

"Exactly," Diego stated. "Bandidos chased the coach, causing the trunks to fall, shot the driver, forced the crash and then what? They did not look through the luggage. If they did, they would have easily found the gifts. Why did they not tear the paper off probing for valuables?"

"Now you have me confused, Diego," the padre interrupted. "What are you getting at?"

"While it is quite possible the children wandered off seeking help," Diego began, "we must also consider the possibility the bandidos achieved their goal—to abduct the children."

"For what purpose?" Padre Felipe asked incredulously.

Now Diego shrugged. "Perhaps their father or grandfather is someone of importance and they hope to ransom them off for a tidy sum. Who knows? Maybe their father is a bandit and stole them away from their mother."

Garcia shook his head. "This is all very farfetched, Don Diego."

"Not as much as you think," Diego pressed forth with his theory, "Gilberto drove his stagecoach through Los Angeles last week heading south. Therefore, he must have been on route north today."

Sergeant Garcia and Padre Felipe nodded in agreement.

"He usually comes through the pueblo in the late afternoon, unless he is riding hard and fast to make a destination. In those cases, he stops in Los Angeles for fresh mounts in the morning." Diego pulled out his pocket watch. "It is a little after two o'clock. We were at the mission for over an hour. Add that to the time it took you to lift the señora to safety and the attack likely happened not long before you stumbled across it."

"That makes sense," Garcia agreed.

"Those children are scared and they might be hurt. They may even believe their mother to be dead. They could not have gotten far. So why did your men not find any trace of them? The answer is simple," Diego paused for emphasis, "It's because they were taken away."

"You may be correct, Diego," Padre Felipe conceded, "but if you are wrong? It will not take long for those children to freeze to death tonight."

"And if I am correct and we assemble search parties, this could become an even greater tragedy," Diego countered. "Fiends who leave a pregnant woman for dead are not to be taken lightly. There is no telling what they will do to those children if they feel threatened."

"Don Diego is right," Garcia interjected. "This is a military matter. I will instruct my men to search the area for signs of the children and the bandidos' tracks." Without skipping a beat, he added, "If we are lucky, Zorro will hear of this and lend assistance."

Diego stole a peek at Bernardo who fought a smile.

"Zorro?" Padre Felipe repeated in surprise, also with a hint of a smile.

"Sí," Garcia reaffirmed, "The fox will never allow bandidos to harm little niños." The sergeant called his lancers together and issued new orders. He returned to his friends. "I will send Privates Ibarra and Delgado to escort you to the mission and accompany you and the little one home, Don Diego."

"That will not be necessary," Diego replied, hoping to sneak a peek for tracks after dropping the padre off. "We do not want to pull any men off detail."

"Please, Don Diego," Garcia insisted, "if there are dangerous bandidos on the loose, I do not want for you to be at risk." He pressed his lips together for a moment. "Please?"

The caballero relented. After they returned the padre to the Mission San Gabriel and checked in with Doctor Avilla, Diego and Bernardo proceeded home. From his seat in the carriage, the mute made certain the soldiers were not looking and traced a small 'Z' in the air.

Diego winked.


	2. Chapter 2

**Miracles Wear Black**

**Chapter 2  
****"Hope"**

"Eliseo and Evangelina?" Alejandro de la Vega repeated. "No, they are not familiar. Don Prudencio in Santa Barbara has a son named Eliseo, but he must be seventeen or eighteen by now." The silver-haired caballero stroked his chin. "His only daughter is married."

In the secret room attached to his quarters, Diego continued his transformation into the fox. He tied the ends of the mask into a knot and glanced at his father. "Ask around. Someone must know the family." He grabbed his hat and slipped into the cloak.

"I will. Diego, are you certain the children were abducted?"

"Why else would bandidos attack a stagecoach and not ransack the luggage seeking money and valuables?" The fox latched his sheathed sword to the belt under his sash. "Even if they did not plan to run it off the road, why pass up the opportunity?"

Alejandro sighed and perched on the edge of the desk.

Zorro arched an eyebrow under the mask. "You think I am wrong?"

"No," Alejandro grinned, "I have learned your instincts are rarely incorrect. But tonight will be the coldest of the year. We cannot afford any mistakes. If those children are wandering the terrain, they will freeze to death. I would feel better if we rounded up all available men and began searching for them. With large numbers, we can cover the territory in a matter of hours."

"We have been over this already. If those bandidos targeted the children, they had to realize the mother was pregnant. To be so callous as to execute such violence on her…" Gloved fingers curled into a ball and Zorro thumped his fist on the wall. The mere thought made his blood boil. "We could end up with a massacre." He locked eyes with his father. "It is two days until Christmas Eve. I do not want to be attending funerals."

"You are right, my son," Alejandro agreed, "But to sit and wait!"

A small chuckle escaped the fox's lips. Waiting had never been his father's strong suit. "It is a gamble, I admit that, but every impulse in my body is telling me I'm correct."

"It is coldest just before dawn," Alejandro observed. "If you do not return to the hacienda by four o'clock tomorrow morning, I will begin assembling our neighbors. That will give you ample time to do your work and provide us a backup plan just in case."

Zorro nodded. "Fair enough, Father. Concentrate your efforts to the north of the mission. Since the stagecoach originated its route from the south, I do not think the bandidos will retrace their steps. Otherwise, why wait to strike outside Los Angeles?"

"Very well…" Alejandro trailed off as soft footsteps emanated from the passage stairs. Bernardo materialized from the shadows into the flickering light cast by the lantern.

"Tornado is ready?" Zorro inquired.

Bernardo nodded. He made a snapping motion with his wrists, swung his arm over his head and pretended to wrap a cloth over his shoulders. Shrugging it off, he folded it and tucked it away.

"Ah, you have put a blanket in the saddlebag?" Zorro put words to the pantomime.

The mute held up two fingers. He then tugged at his own jacket.

"Two blankets? Good. And a coat?" Zorro eyed his father. "Am I to presume it is black in color?"

"That was my idea." Alejandro crossed his arms over his chest, challenging his son to object. "Just because you are stubborn does not mean you need to catch your death of pneumonia. Silk shirts and cloaks are not the warmest attire."

Bernardo silently chuckled.

"Gracias, my mother hens." With a grand bow, Zorro proceeded down the passage to the cave.

His father's parting words hung heavy in the air. "Good luck, mi hijo. God be with you."

* * *

"This is utter foolishness, Felipe."

Carrying a basket brimming with food, Padre Felipe pushed past his colleague and exited the back door of the kitchen. He placed the bundle on the floorboard of the waiting buggy Quirino harnessed. With seats for only two people, it was smaller than the de la Vega carriage and drawn by a single horse. He straightened his posture, pivoted and found Padre Ignacio had followed him.

"This is utter foolishness," he reiterated for the tenth time in as many minutes.

Felipe firmed his resolve earlier while sitting at the wounded señora's bedside. He would have slipped away from the mission without this hindrance if Ignacio had not gone to the kitchen to sneak another cookie. "That may very well be true, but God is imploring me to find those children," Felipe replied. "I will not sit idly by while two niños are out there cold, hungry and frightened."

"And if you encounter the bandidos?" Ignacio asked. "You could be killed."

"I am willing to take that risk." Felipe circled around the rear of the carriage and climbed into the driver's seat. Folded blankets lay next to him. "You will lead tonight's sermon in my absence?"

"Of course," Ignacio replied. "We will pray for the señora, the children and you."

Felipe chuckled at the younger man's wryness. "Gracias." He watched Ignacio backtrack to the kitchen, no doubt to satisfy his insatiable sweet tooth once more. Shaking his head, he picked up the reins when Quirino appeared at his side.

"You should not be traveling alone, Padre. May I go with?"

Padre Felipe motioned to the occupied passenger side. "I am afraid there is no room."

Quirino smiled and made a clicking sound with his tongue. A saddled chestnut mare emerged from behind a building. "I planned ahead, Padre."

"So you did," Felipe observed, eyes twinkling at the display of fortitude. He waited for the Indian to mount. "It will be dark soon. Let us get started. We have not a minute to waste."

* * *

Hands bound behind his back and feet tied together at the ankles, Eliseo Jeremías Zavala drew his knees up to his chest and stared at two of the bandidos who killed his mother. He fought back tears as he remembered her lying motionless, her skin pale and blood soaking into her dress. It still hurt deep inside from when his family buried his baby brother three years ago. Now they would have to bury Mamá and the sibling he never got to meet.

He peered over at his sister tied up next to him. Tears streaked her dirty cheeks and she sniffed her runny nose, but she remained quiet. When she could not stop crying after they arrived at the camp, the bandidos held a gun to her brother's head, explaining how he would get a bullet in his brain if she did not shut up. From that moment on, the only sounds coming from the girl were muffled sniffs.

Eliseo shifted to brush his fingers against his sister's. Evangelina leaned her cheek against him. He was her big brother by four years and he vowed to do his best to protect her, even when his own fear made his stomach twist in knots, like when the pistol was pressed against his forehead.

Turning his eyes back to his captors, Eliseo continued studying them. Bandidos never talked once they were arrested, so he listened and watched, trying to memorize each detail. When his papá rescued them, Eliseo wanted to be able to tell him everything. The murderers will hang for killing Mamá.

From what he could discern so far, Eliseo knew the ugly one with the scar along his jaw was named Iván. He sat on the dirt propped against a log, legs extended in front of him, admiring a pistol. The other one, working to get a fire started, was his brother, Guillermo. He was also ugly with a nose that looked like someone hit him with a shovel.

A third bandit, a cousin they called Neron, rode off just after they arrived at the camp. It seemed they had another cousin in San Buenaventura. Maybe that is where Neron went, Eliseo surmised, to fetch him. If that was true, he hoped his papá would catch both devils when they met up.

A wave of relief washed over Eliseo when Guillermo stroked the flames and the warmth began to reach them. The sun sank behind the hills and cold air nipped at his skin. Evangelina scooted a few inches closer to the heat. Shovel-face rummaged through a saddlebag and returned to the fire with a pan. A short while later, the smell of beans cooking made his hungry belly grumble. He and Evangelina had not eaten since breakfast.

"They taste even better than they smell," Iván remarked, raising his head to look at his hostages, "but you two will not get the chance to find out." His taunting laugh bounced off the boulders.

Eliseo held a firm gaze. He pledged to starve before eating the food of murderers!

"Look, Guillermo, the boy thinks he can intimidate–"

Galloping hoof beats reverberated in the distance. Eliseo smiled; the soldiers were here! But as the clops neared, his hope faded when he realized there could be no more than one or two horses.

Standing side-by-side, Iván and Guillermo aimed their pistols, lowering the weapons only when the lone rider came into view and leaped off the saddle. "You are back so soon?" Scar-face asked.

"It is done, my cousins," Neron spread his arms to gloat, "My amigo in San Fernando will deliver our message to Zavala this evening, even if he must run his mount into the ground to do so."

"I don't like it," Iván said. "You should have delivered the note."

"It's better this way." Neron knelt before the pot of beans and scooped out a mouthful. "Good, but needs to be a bit warmer." He stood and smirked. "Don't look so dour. This is safer. My friend will transport the note to San Buenaventura, drop it off at the cuartel and make haste in disappearing."

"And if he gets caught?" Iván asked.

"That is the beauty of it, my cousin. I wrote out our demands and sealed them with wax. He has no idea what he is involved with. If the soldiers detain him, he cannot tell them a thing."

Guillermo laughed. "This is your friend?"

"Better him in jail than me," Neron quipped, getting comfortable by the fire. "Since I made excellent time to San Fernando," he continued, "I moved the rendezvous up to ten in the morning. In fourteen hours, our Cousin Luis will be a free man again."

"Ten?" Iván repeated. "Will Zavala have enough time to make it?"

"Does it matter? Even if he's a little late, it works to our advantage," Neron explained. "A worried father out to save his niños does not think properly. Besides, with such a narrow time frame to work with, there will be no opportunity for Zavala to plan against us even if he wanted to."

"It is a smart idea, Iván," Guillermo said. "If Luis used his brain, he would not have gotten caught murdering the judge and we would not be forced to save him from the noose."

"Sí," Iván traced a finger along the scar marring his jaw, "Sí, I like it."

The ugly bandit gazed in their direction and Eliseo diverted his eyes. Trudging footsteps grew closer and he gulped. A hand grabbed him by the hair and wrenched his head back. The hideous scar looked even more repulsive up close.

"Maybe your father will not come for you and your sister," Iván taunted. "If I had little beasts like you, I would pay a bandito to steal them away." The others laughed. "Or maybe the brave Capitán Zavala is truly a coward and will be afraid to meet us alone."

"My papá is no coward!" Eliseo shouted. "He will save us and you will hang with your cousin!"

"There will be deaths, but not ours. No man wants to bury his children, especially at Christmas. Sí, your father will come." Iván grinned, revealing crooked, stained teeth and leaned in closer. The hot, putrid breath made Eliseo nauseous. "When he does, I will put a bullet in his belly. As he lay there bleeding, the last thing he will see is me cutting your throat from ear," he yanked the boy's hair harder and ran a finger along his neck, "to ear."

Eliseo gulped. He did not want to show fear, but he couldn't stop his body from trembling.

"Then I will do the same to your sister." Iván released his grip and turned.

No one threatened Evangelina! Eliseo summoned up every ounce of courage he had. Bracing his weight, he kicked the murderous devil in the leg with all his might. He received a backhand to the cheek in return, sending him toppling to the dirt. Struggling to sit up, the tears spilled. His sister sobbed next to him.

The bandidos laughed around the fire as they ate. Eliseo searched behind him with his bound hands for the sharp stone he dropped. He picked it up earlier when they tossed him from the horse and held on to it ever since, waiting for the right moment. When he located it, he whispered to his sister. "Shh, Lina, it will be all right."

She chewed her lower lip, her body shaking with terror. "That is what Mamá said."

He pushed thoughts of his mother aside and did not respond. With the ropes digging into his skin, Eliseo ignored the pain and went to work trying to cut through his binds.

* * *

Capitán Jeremías Antonio Zavala dropped the quill and massaged his cramping hand. It was just as well he take a break. The words were beginning to blur before his eyes. Leaning back in the chair, he rested his head against the wood and yearned for his family to be here to distract him from the mundane tasks.

Since assuming his duties as Commandante of the Pueblo de San Buenaventura, his days and nights had consisted of filling out paperwork, followed by more paperwork. Mandatory reports had to be sent to headquarters, all of the lancers' files needed updating and other bureaucracy required attending to. It was not at all what he expected upon arriving.

When the knock sounded at his office door, he relished the interruption. "Enter."

The innkeeper, a timid fellow of sixty-five with over two dozen grandchildren, stepped inside. His more boisterous wife actually managed the tavern. "Buenas noches, Capitán."

"Buenas noches." Zavala rose from the chair to greet his guest and glanced at the clock. "What brings you to the cuartel at this late hour? There is no trouble, I hope." There was some truth to those words. While he wouldn't mind a petty squabble amongst some drunken customers to liven things up, it would only result in more paperwork.

"There is no trouble, Capitán. A stranger came in a few minutes ago, left this note on the counter," he passed a folded sheet of paper to the officer, "and asked that it be delivered to you. He did not even stay long enough to order a drink. I thought it might be important."

Zavala slid a finger under the flap to break the seal and scanned the crude handwriting. A crushing weight squeezed the air from his lungs. Struggling to breathe, he collapsed into the chair.

_Your wife is dead. We have your children. If you do not wish for them to join her in the afterlife, do exactly as we instruct. Bring Luis Garza to the old way station south of San Fernando at ten tomorrow morning. Remember, only you and Garza. If we see anyone else, your niños die._

"Capitán? Capitán?"

Zavala vaguely registered a voice calling his name and hands shaking his shoulder. He looked up to find the innkeeper standing next to him, concern etched on the elderly features. Zavala grabbed the man's forearm. "Who brought this to you?" When an answer did not sprout forth immediately, he grew more desperate. "Damn it, who brought this letter?"

"I-I do not know," the innkeeper spluttered, stepping back. "I-I have not seen him before."

Zavala bolted to his feet, knocking the chair over behind him. "Which direction did he ride off in?"

"I-I am sorry, but I could not see," he stammered, "I was inside."

The capitán began pacing the small open space, running a flustered hand through his dark, wavy hair tinged with the first signs of gray. It couldn't be true. His beloved Susana couldn't be dead. She and their children were safe in San Luis Rey.

"Capitán?" the innkeeper murmured, "M-May I go now?"

Zavala jerked his head up, having forgotten the other man's presence. "Sí," he replied, holding the door open. The innkeeper scurried out. Alone, he sank onto the couch and read the note again. Crumpling it onto a ball, he threw it across the room.

The reason he insisted his wife stay in San Luis Rey was to keep her and their unborn baby safe. He buried one child; he never wanted to bury another. While only a four-day journey, eight if they stopped at small inns along the way, he did not want to exert any undue strain on her, not until after their little one was born.

Zavala cupped his head in his hands. If only he brought his family with, he could have protected them. Now his children were in the grasp of murderous thieves, likely members of Garza's gang.

Raising his head, tear-filled eyes fell on his desk. He forced his body upright and reached for the compass sitting on the edge. Susana had given it to him on their wedding night twelve years ago. After he had opened the small box, he arched an eyebrow at the strange gift. He thought he possessed an excellent sense of direction.

"This is so you will always find your way home to me, no matter where the army sends you," she said taking his cheek, her eyes glittering with love and delight for her new husband.

Smiling at the memory and clutching the ornate compass, the overwhelming shock and sorrow transformed into anger and intense determination. "I will get our children back, Susana, and I will make those bastards pay for what they have done."

He would not play by their rules. He would bear down on them with wrath of the King's Army.

Zavala stormed out of his office in search of his second-in-command. A group of lancers were at the stables, busy readying their mounts to go out on the next patrol. "Lieutenant," he called out.

The soldier jogged over and saluted. "Sí, Commandante."

"Prepare the prisoner for transport."

"Sí, Commandante, we will be standing by to depart at dawn."

"We leave immediately."

"Uh, sir, immediately?" the lieutenant repeated in confusion.

"Immediately," Zavala reiterated. "I want a dozen of our best men as guards." He offered a brief explanation of the situation. "We have fewer than twelve hours. Every second counts."

"Sí, mi Capitán," the lieutenant saluted, "We will not let you down."

In less than ten minutes, the soldiers had Garza secured and were equipped to ride. Zavala swung onto the saddle. "Lieutenant, take a private and set out one mile ahead of us. Sergeant, you and another private linger about one mile behind. Corporal, you are to pair up and remain about a half-mile behind them."

The whereabouts of the stranger who delivered the ransom note still concerned him. "Keep sharp eyes and open ears. I do not want to get trapped in an ambush. If you see or hear anything out of the ordinary, alert me straight away. If we are being followed, I want to know it. Am I clear?"

A chorus of "Sí, Commandante" sounded and Zavala gave the command to open the gate.

* * *

Eliseo rubbed the rock back and forth against the binding rope, pausing every time the bandidos glanced his way. Camped around the fire, they ate and drank and told raunchy stories. The boy's eyes widened at their descriptions of señoritas and he was thankful his sister drifted to sleep. If Mamá heard the devils, she would slap them upside the head and wash their mouths out with soap!

Heck, if Papá heard them, they would spend a night in jail for the naughty words.

Eventually, Iván and Neron passed out, leaving Guillermo to watch the hostages. Shovel-face propped himself against a rock, folded his arms over his chest and stared at the children. Eliseo closed his eyelids, pretending to fall asleep. Soon after, he heard heavy snoring. Sneaking a peek, he spied the guard's head drooped forward in deep slumber.

Eliseo resumed the task, at long last cutting through the full width of rope. He rubbed at his sore, burning wrists before starting on the binds around his ankles. It took too long for his liking, so he attempted unfastening the knot. After a few exasperating minutes, he was free. The boy gently shook his sister. Her eyes fluttered open. He clamped a hand over her mouth while holding a finger to his lips.

Evangelina nodded.

She sat up and he fumbled with the knots, glancing at their captors every few seconds. The ropes fell away. They scrambled to their feet and he took her hand. Eliseo's gaze focused on the mounts tethered to the far side of the camp. His breath caught in his throat with each step they made. He let go of Evangelina and reached for the reins when one of the horses whinnied.

Eliseo froze, fearing if the animal did not wake the bandidos, the pounding of his heart certainly would. He looked to the fire where one of the devils rolled over beneath a blanket. Grabbing his sister's wrist, he picked a direction and ran.

They kept running and running into the dark of night, until Evangelina tugged at him. "Please stop, Eliseo, please." He slowed his pace and turned to her. "Where are we going?"

"Soldiers are always patrolling," he explained. "They must be close. We will find them. Or maybe there is a hacienda nearby. We have to keep going, Lina. You heard them; they will kill us and Papá."

"But I am cold," she sniffed. "Can you make us a fire?"

"We can't. The bandidos will see a fire." Eliseo bit his lower lip. He wasn't even sure he could build one. He held out on open palm, imploring her to trust him. "Please, Lina, for Mamá."

She took it and they continued scurrying across the terrain. Eliseo didn't know how far they made it, but with each step, his stomach twisted with anxiety. Where were the soldiers? Where were the ranchos and haciendas? He didn't even see any cattle or tool sheds.

Evangelina tripped and fell to her knees crying. She wrapped her arms around her small body and shivered. "I'm cold, Seo, so cold," she said through chattering teeth.

Eliseo dropped to his knees beside her. His fingers were so numb he could barely bend them and his nose and ears were chilled. The light breeze slashed through the wool clothes as if they were not even there. "I'm cold, too," he whispered.

He glanced around, desperate for anyone to find them, and spotted a clump of bushes. Maybe they would provide some shelter. "Come on, Lina, a little further." He practically dragged her into the thicket. Wrapping his arms around his sister to keep her warm, he feared they would never see their papá again. Cold nipped at him like needles pricking his skin. Eliseo's eyelids grew heavy and he succumbed to the darkness swirling around him.

* * *

Warm breaths could be seen drifting up from Tornado and his rider as they searched the landscape for the two missing children. If felt as if the temperature dropped a degree with each tick of the clock. Zorro ignored the chill that permeated the black clothes, but he had not yet donned the jacket and pressed forth in his quest. With each passing minute, the fox grew more agitated.

Familiar with the army's procedures, he remained a safe distance from Sergeant Garcia and the soldiers. He did not want to risk them giving chase and wasting precious time. Zorro also had to depend on Garcia to handle the situation on his end; they could not afford the fox retracing steps. So the masked man concentrated his search on the outer lying areas on the way to San Fernando where bandidos were most likely to take refuge.

He kept eyes alert for smoke rising from campfires, but only twinkling stars greeted him in the moonlight. The scent of burning wood filled the air from crackling fireplaces burning across the region, so he could not trust his nose to lead him. They checked on known abandoned huts, but there was still no trace of the siblings or their abductors.

Could he be wrong? No, Zorro's gut instinct screamed at him that he was close. He had to have faith in himself and his abilities. Doubts now would only lead to tragedy.

Tornado snorted.

"What is it, boy?" The stallion raised his muzzle and the fox narrowed his eyes. In the distance, he observed faint wisps of smoke. Urging the stallion onward, they climbed to the top of a hill for a better view. Scanning the valley, he grinned. The last embers of a fire glowed in the darkness.

Approaching the campsite, Tornado's hooves floated on the ground, not making the slightest of sounds. Zorro dismounted and crept closer. Two men curled up under blankets next to the dying flames. A third sat hunched, his head dangling forward in a position guaranteed to result in a stiff neck come morning. Their mounts were tethered to the fox's right.

But there were no signs of any children.

Zorro's heart sank. If these were indeed the men who attacked the stagecoach, where were Eliseo and Evangelina? The fox emerged from the shadows, eager for a closer inspection.

Crunching branches from afar caused the horses to neigh and a man to stir. Zorro ducked behind the boulders. Could the lancers have progressed this far north?

The man sat up, kicked off the blanket and rubbed his eyes. He jumped to his feet, giving the other man with a blanket a nudge in the ribs with his boot. "Neron, wake up."

"What is it, Iván?" Neron asked groggily. "I don't have anymore brandy."

Iván marched to his other compañero and gave him a swift kick in the thigh. "Guillermo, you idiot, where are the beasts?" Guillermo jerked his head up. "You were supposed to keep guard, not fall asleep you blundering fool."

Neron was wide awake now and at Iván's elbow. "They couldn't have gotten far. We'll split up and hunt them down." More crunching branches sounded. Neron lowered his voice. "It must be them."

Pistols drawn, Iván motioned orders for his two amigos to circle around while he crouched down next to a boulder and waited as footsteps grew closer. Zorro retrieved his whip from Tornado's saddle. He returned to his previous spot just as the two bandidos wrestled their prey into the light.

Zorro barely stifled his gasp. Padre Felipe and Quirino!

"Look what we have here, Iván," Neron laughed, "a holy man and a savage."

"Isn't there something biblical like that?" Iván snickered. "What brings you wandering the night?"

"What have you done with the children?" Padre Felipe demanded. Zorro had never seen the gentle soul so furious, not even when the former commandante of Los Angeles, Capitán Monastario, took over the Mission San Gabriel almost two years ago.

"Children? What children?" Iván taunted. "I see no niños about."

Padre Felipe straightened. "If you have harmed them in anyway…"

"You'll what?" Iván asked. "Have God strike me down?" With a laugh, he tucked his pistol into his waistband and turned to his compañeros. "Kill them and stash the bodies behind the rocks."

Zorro dashed from his hiding spot. Two cracks of his whip sent the pistols flying from their grasps. Guillermo stood there, eyes growing wide as saucers, before scrambling to the dirt for his firearm. Quirino acted quickly and thumped him on the head with a rock. Neron unsheathed his blade.

Iván drew his pistol and took aim. Zorro wielded his whip again, knocking the weapon from his hand. "Shoot him, you idiots, shoot him!" he shouted, diving for his pistol. Quirino struck again.

"Gracias, Señor," Zorro nodded, tossing his whip aside for his rapier. Sidestepping Neron's wild lunge, he gathered his cape in his free arm with a flourish and the swords clashed. The fox grinned. Parrying an awkward move, he went on the offensive. Steel clanged against steel under the cold, crisp air. Zorro executed a feint and propelled the sword from his opponent's hand.

The fox held the tip of his blade to Neron's throat. "Señor Quirino, if you please, these ruffians have some rope by their horses." He kept an icy gaze on the bandit. "Where are the children?"

Padre Felipe joined the masked man's side. "Where are they?"

"Zorro does not go around killing indiscriminately," Neron smirked, "and a padre certainly doesn't approve of such actions. You do not scare me."

"I may make an exception in your case." Zorro dug the blade into the man's flesh, drawing a trickle of blood. Much to his dismay, Neron inhaled sharply, but remained silent. For a fleeting second, he pondered going further, but he could not kill in cold blood. Quirino returned. Zorro forcefully heaved Neron to the ground and tied him, making certain the binds were taut, perhaps even a little tighter than necessary.

"We must get answers from him," Padre Felipe insisted.

"I am afraid it's not that simple, Padre." Zorro scanned the campground, his eyes landing on segments of rope a few yards away. A sharp rock lay next to the pieces. He knelt down, picked up a short length and examined the ragged edges.

Comprehension sank in as he recalled the gang's anxiousness upon waking. _Where are the beasts?_ "The children outwitted you and escaped," he stated to Neron, "You don't know where they are."

"How long have they been gone?" Padre Felipe inquired, partly to the fox and partly to the bandit.

"He wouldn't know," Zorro answered, nearing the fire and indicating the empty bottles littering the sleeping area. "It seems the kidnappers drank themselves into a stupor. Not very smart of them."

"It's smarter than freezing to death," Neron retorted.

Padre Felipe approached the fox. "How far do you think they could get?"

"They are young and terrified. Fear is an excellent motivator, as is the will to survive." Zorro looked out over the expansive terrain. "They could be a few yards from us or a mile away in any direction." The last embers of the fire died out. "There is no telling where they are at this moment."


	3. Chapter 3

**Miracles Wear Black**

**Chapter 3  
"Faith"**

With no time to spare, the bandidos were slung over the saddles and secured to their mounts. Zorro gathered his whip, collected the scattered pistols and tucked all but one firearm into Tornado's saddlebag. He approached Padre Felipe and Quirino, who retrieved their horses and buggy. "I beg you both to return to the mission."

"I will not give up until I find those children." The padre held firm in his vocation and a hint of a smile tugged at his lips. "God is guiding me to them, just as He is guiding you."

The fox could not argue with the logic or with a higher power. Against his better judgment, he conceded. "Very well, but we will search together." Zorro looked to the Indian. "I am imposing a great deal upon you, Quirino, but I need for you to deliver these men to Sergeant Garcia's soldiers. Keep on el Camino Real and they should see you a few miles south."

"Sí, Señor Zorro," he replied.

"Show them the way to this camp and have them fan out for the children." Now after midnight, the coldest temperatures were only hours away. For once, he hoped his father's impatience prevailed and he began assembling the hacendados ahead of schedule. He would consult his closest friend and neighbor first. "The rancheros will lend assistance. Ask the sergeant to dispatch a lancer to send word to Don Nacho Torres and Don Alejandro de la Vega."

Quirino arched an eyebrow. "The soldiers will listen to me?"

"I am certain they will be happy to oblige." Zorro winked, drew his sword and sliced the letter 'Z' into the seat of Neron's trousers. He then handed a pistol to Quirino. "You should not require this, but take it as a safety precaution, eh?"

With a smile, Quirino nodded, climbed onto his chestnut and led the kidnappers away.

"How do we proceed?" Padre Felipe inquired.

"We need to examine the ground for tracks." Zorro walked over to where Eliseo and Evangelina had been bound. "I doubt they tried to sneak past their captors, so we'll start on this side." The sky remained clear allowing the soft light from the half moon to shine down. The fox stepped further and further away, scanning the dirt for even the most insignificant trail.

Padre Felipe followed him at a distance as to not destroy any traces.

Zorro identified hoof prints that rode off to the northwest, likely toward the King's Highway. The same horse made a return journey. He continued scrutinizing the earth for footprints, sunken pebbles and snapped branches for any indication of the two siblings' escape route. At long last, he detected slim depressions. "They went this way."

"How can you tell?" the padre asked, his voice filled with genuine curiosity.

"There is ever so slight scraping. The children are light; they will not make heavy indentations."

Padre Felipe returned to his buggy and Zorro swung onto Tornado's back. The two men followed the grooves in the dirt, occasionally losing sight of the tracks. Since Eliseo and Evangelina tried to keep to a straight path, the fox took it on faith they did not veer off in a new direction.

Their progress was slow at best. Zorro held little confidence in the buggy's wheels on the bumpy terrain. He did not want to confront leaving the good priest behind. They maintained vigilant watch on the surroundings, looking for movement and listening for whimpers. Tornado shook his head, sensing the urgency and eager to pick up the pace, but kept to a measured walk at his master's discretion.

"The children managed to get far," Padre Felipe observed, breaking the silence, _if we have not missed them_. The unspoken words hung heavy in the air.

"Children are often more resourceful than we give them credit for."

"I imagine you were quite a handful during your boyhood."

Zorro smiled. "Are you fishing for clues, Padre?"

"No," he chuckled, "only trying to keep my mind from the biting cold."

Biting cold was correct. The rush from Zorro's escapade at the camp that heated his blood started to wane. His gloves and boots kept his fingers and toes warm, but his shirt and cloak provided scant protection from the icy touch of Mother Nature. His teeth chattered and he could feel the gooseflesh developing on his arms.

The fox considered stopping for a minute to don the jacket stashed in Tornado's saddlebag, but all thoughts were on the missing children. If he was chilled to the bone, they must be freezing. He refused to squander precious seconds for his own comfort.

Zorro glanced at Padre Felipe. Clad in heavy robes, he had the benefit of the buggy's walls to shield him from the jagged bites of the razor sharp breezes. Even so, his gentle features twisted in discomfort and his jaw trembled, revealing he also fought chattering teeth.

"Considering I wear a mask and ride along the hills at night, I suppose it is not much of a stretch to admit that I was an adventurous child," Zorro replied with a small laugh.

"I can imagine the frights you gave your parents."

Zorro crooked an eyebrow under the mask. The comment, while innocent enough, struck too close to his heart. Padre Felipe had known him all his life. He baptized him as an infant. Throughout his youth, his parents lamented their only son's antics to their friend. The padre comforted him and his father on the dark day when his mother died. He bid the excited student boarding the ship for Spain farewell from the port in San Diego.

"They must be very proud of you," the padre continued. "When Capitán Monastario arrived and his sinister impulses were revealed, we all prayed for help. God works in mysterious ways, but none as mysterious as you." He glanced at the fox. "He delivered us an angel dressed in black."

Zorro's brows shot up to his hairline. "I am no angel, Padre."

"Oh, perhaps you are not a divine being from Heaven, but you are a good man who risks his life to save others without thinking of himself first. Tell me, Señor Zorro, why do you do it?"

"Los Angeles is my home," the fox answered, choosing his words carefully. "I-I could not sit by while a tyrant tore it apart, destroying lives and families."

"So you returned home and took action to save those you care about," Padre Felipe concluded. The masked man whipped his head to the side and was met with a grin. "I have my suspicions. I have had them from almost the day you first appeared, but they are just that, the suspicions of an old man. I feel it is better this way."

Zorro nodded, not trusting his voice.

They pressed forth, silence settling over the two men once more. Breezes picked up in strength, blowing grains of dirt and erasing the faint trail. The fox eyed the vestige of a heavier impression. He dismounted and knelt down, running his fingers over the texture.

Could the children have fallen? He scanned the area, desperately trying to determine where they headed next. No footsteps or scrapings pointed the way. Rocks and brush scattered the landscape. So many recesses, so many directions…

With a frustrated sigh, Zorro swung onto Tornado's saddle. "We'll keep to this path." In a few miles, they would reach the old, deserted way station on the route to San Fernando. The children could not have gotten that far. At that point, he resolved to turn around and retrace their way back.

They made it no further than a couple of yards when a thump sounded and the buggy fell to one side. Padre Felipe let out a surprised yelp. Zorro leaped down, helped his friend exit and examined the axle. "It's difficult to discern in the moonlight, but I believe the wheel only came loose."

"Go on without me," the padre insisted, "We cannot waste time repairing it."

"I refuse to leave you behind."

"Are you prepared to knock me out and lob me over the rear of that stallion?"

"No, Padre," Zorro chuckled, "but at the very least, I will set you up with a fire to keep you warm." He scanned the horizon. "There should be a sheltered area over that hill to take refuge at."

They unharnessed the horse and trekked over the hill. An alcove amid a grouping of boulders greeted them. The fox gathered branches and arranged them in a pile. As he did, Tornado's neigh shattered the stillness and he reared high in the air.

"Wait here, Padre." Zorro ran to his faithful steed. "What is it, boy?"

The horse snorted and kicked at the ground in front a thick shrub. Rubbing the animal's neck to calm him, Zorro stepped closer and pushed back the branches. "Padre Felipe! Come quickly!"

Eliseo and Evangelina lay huddled together, their eyes closed, skin pale and bodies eerily motionless. He yanked off a glove and felt their foreheads. Both were so cold to the touch. He checked for pulses and sighed in relief upon feeling weak but steady beats beneath his fingertips.

"Madre de Dios," the padre muttered from behind his shoulder.

"They are alive. Can you get the girl?" Zorro lifted the larger, heavier boy into his arms as the padre took his lighter sister. They carried the siblings to the alcove.

"Stay with them while I fetch the blankets." Zorro raced to retrieve the covers from the buggy and Tornado's saddlebag. He returned, draping the jacket over their legs. Once the two men tucked the pile of blankets around the children, the fox focused on starting a roaring fire. Heat from the dancing flames enveloped the nook in warmth.

Padre Felipe and Zorro clustered together around Eliseo and Evangelina, desperately working to thaw the frozen bodies and keep them alive.

* * *

Thundering hooves barreled into the Pueblo de San Fernando. The gates of the cuartel parted for the convoy and Capitán Zavala brought his troops to a halt in the courtyard. After a quick introduction to the sentries on duty, he ordered his men to lead the prisoner to the jail cell. A private saluted and Zavala watched him scuttle to his superior's quarters.

Before the guard's knuckles touched the door, it flew open. A short, plump fellow with a thinning hairline he recognized as Capitán Echevarría appeared in the entrance. The sleepy-eyed commandante tugged the robe tighter around his waist and neared the top of the steps. "What is the meaning of this commotion?"

"I am Capitán Jeremías Zavala of San Buenaventura. I am transporting a prisoner." He dismounted, passed the reins to his lieutenant and approached.

Echevarría blinked hard and flattened the wisps of hair on top his head. "Sí, I remember. You rode through here a few weeks ago. But what are you doing out at this ungodly hour?"

Zavala explained the situation.

"My resources are at your disposal," Echevarría replied, fully alert. "How do you want to proceed?"

"My soldiers require fresh horses. It is now shortly after zero five hundred hours, which gives me over four hours to find the fiends who abducted my children. I want to utilize every available minute searching the land between here and Los Angeles."

"Even if the messenger did not follow you, are you not afraid the bandidos might spot the soldiers?" Echevarría inquired.

"I have the upmost faith in my lancers and the King's Army. These bastards murdered my wife. There is no telling what they have already done to my Eliseo and Evangelina." Zavala breathed deeply to keep his raging emotions under control. "As I understand it, Luis Garza's gang was not large. They do not have the manpower to scout the entire area; for that reason, they should concentrate their reconnaissance efforts closer to the old way station. We shall keep the bulk of our men a few miles away."

"Very well," Echevarría said. "Take whatever horses and lancers you need. When your mounts are rested, I will send more men to aid in your hunt."

"Gracias," Zavala nodded. "There is one more request I must ask of you. I am to convene with the bandidos alone at zero ten hundred hours. Will you escort the prisoner part of the way on my behalf? I shall meet you a few miles north of the way station near the San Vincente Pass to take custody if I do not find my children beforehand."

"Sí," Echevarría raised an eyebrow, "but if they have lookouts and realize it is not you?"

"It should not be an issue. They will merely see Garza and the uniform of a capitán." Zavala paused and held the gaze of his fellow officer. "I may arrive at the rendezvous only to find it is the first leg in a wild goose chase or Garza's gang may try to kill me. My sole concern is getting my children safely away. If they are there, I will get them out. Once they are free, let the bandidos taste the fury of our army."

Echevarría nodded and placed a firm hand on Zavala's shoulder. "Good luck, Jeremías."

* * *

Warm rays of sunshine caressed Zorro's cheek, stirring him awake. Something firm nudged him in the shoulder and he felt hot breaths on his neck. His eyes flew open and he blinked hard, trying to adjust to the bright light. Tornado snorted and nudged him again. The stallion retrieved the basket of food from Padre Felipe's carriage and left it near the extinguished fire.

"Good morning to you, too," he said, keeping his voice at a whisper.

Eliseo and Evangelina huddled under layers of blankets between him and Padre Felipe. Soft snores emanated from the priest. The fox momentarily chastised himself for falling asleep, though with Tornado as guard, no one stood a chance of getting near them.

Zorro carefully freed himself from the slumbering boy, who rested his head against the masked man's chest, and shifted to stretch his back. Crouched on his knees, a slight movement from the corner of his vision made him pause. Evangelina's eyes fluttered open and grew large at the sight of the masked man.

He smiled in a friendly gesture. Her reaction took him a bit by surprise.

She screamed at the top of her lungs.

Padre Felipe jolted wide-awake and Eliseo jumped to his feet. The boy positioned his body between the strangers and his sister. Recognition shone on his face and he turned to Evangelina with a lopsided grin. "Shh, Lina, it is all right. It's Zorro!" His gaze returned to the outlaw. "You are el Zorro, are you not?"

"Sí," the fox rose to his feet and bowed, "I am at your service, Señor and Señorita."

"I am Eliseo Zavala and this is my sister, Evangelina," he replied, puffing his chest out. His eyes moved to Tornado and his smile grew even bigger as he pointed at the large animal. "That is your magnificent black stallion. He is the smartest and fastest horse in all of California!"

Tornado neighed and nodded his head in approval.

"Quit showing off," Zorro remarked. The padre, who observed the exchange with an amused expression, cleared his throat. Zorro stifled a chuckled. "This is Padre Felipe from the Mission San Gabriel. He also set out in search of you last night."

"Gracias, Padre," Eliseo replied. "You should be aware, Señor Zorro, that the evil bandidos who took us are still out there somewhere. Our papá will find them if you don't. Scar-face, Shovel-face and their cousin, they killed…" he trailed off, staring at the dirt as a shiver racked his body.

"They killed our mamá," Evangelina whispered from behind her brother.

"Oh, no, children," Padre Felipe knelt before them, "The soldiers from Los Angeles found your mother yesterday and brought her to the mission. She is badly injured, but she was alive and the doctor is staying with her."

Eliseo gulped. "Is the baby safe?"

"The doctor could feel the niño kicking," the padre replied, placing a reassuring palm on the boy's shoulder. "I can make no promises as to her condition today, but she has much to live for."

"May we go see her?" Evangelina asked.

"Of course, you may," the padre responded. He heard their growling bellies. "But first you both need to eat something." He pulled fruit, bread and a small jug of water from the basket. "It might not be the freshest after the cold temperatures overnight, but I am sure it is still edible."

The children eagerly accepted the oranges, grapes and bread.

"I will see about repairing the wheel, Padre," Zorro said.

As he walked around them, Eliseo fiddled with the grapes on the stem and glanced up. "Señor Zorro, do you think the bandidos will try to harm our mother again?"

"You need not worry," Padre Felipe answered, his eyes twinkling. "Señor Zorro took care of them right after he saved me from their evil clutches. They are behind bars at this very minute."

The children gawked at him in sheer amazement. Zorro bit his bottom lip to keep from laughing and felt his cheeks blushing. Now he even had a man of the cloth bolstering the fox's legend. He almost couldn't wait to hear Sergeant Garcia's exaggerated version of events.

* * *

The sun peeked out from behind the mountains and rose higher in the sky. Capitán Zavala grew increasingly agitated as hours ticked by with no sign of the bandidos who took his children. His troops were now several miles south of the old way station.

Every instinct in his body told him there had to be a camp in the vicinity. Garza's gang expected him to approach from the north with Garza in tow. It made sense for them to ride up from the south. His lancers had been searching the better part of three hours, but no fires burned before dawn and no tracks emerged in the daylight.

If they did not find something—anything—soon, he would have to retreat and rendezvous with Echevarría at the San Vincente Pass. He didn't want to turn back. Not when he felt so close…

Zavala dug his heels into his mount and climbed to the top of a mesa overlooking the valley below. Rolling hills dotted the landscape with trees, dense brush and rocks creating a world of cover. He pulled the spyglass from the saddlebag and extended it to its full length.

Surveying the terrain, he sighed in defeat. Miles and miles of nothing stared back at him. Refusing to surrender, he scrutinized the land again. The bandidos had to be on the move if they were to make the meeting. The slightest movement caught his eye. Adjusting the focus for a clearer view, he discovered a buggy harnessed with a single horse. Zavala's heart began beating faster.

He summoned his troops and prepared to attack.

* * *

Padre Felipe folded the last of the blankets and placed them in the buggy. Zorro peered up from inspecting the newly repaired wheel. The gentle features observed him with a glint of amusement. "Did I not tell you God works in mysterious ways?"

"Sí, you did, Padre," Zorro replied with a toothy grin. "I never expected to be thankful for a loose wheel. It took no effort to reattach it to the axle. It should hold for the time being if we maintain a slow pace, but I suggest having the blacksmith look at it once you return to the mission."

Zorro led the old mare and small carriage closer to the alcove, testing the sturdiness. The padre motioned to the children. "Your horse is going to be spoiled by those two."

Evangelina pulled the black jacket around her small frame after she finished eating the last of the cookies tucked in the bottom of the basket. She stayed close to her brother who fed orange segments to Tornado. The girl spread her fingers open and snuck him a grape.

Zorro laughed. "He is devouring the attention as much as the food."

Evangelina, growing bolder, neared her rescuers. "Are we going to see Mamá now?"

"Sí," Padre Felipe replied. "Let us get you seated." He helped her into the vehicle. "Eliseo, you should be able to squeeze in beside your sister."

"Can I ride with you, Señor Zorro?" Eliseo asked.

"I see no reason why not." Zorro gave him a boost into the saddle and swung up behind him. They kept the horses to a walk as they headed for the mission. "You spoke of your father earlier, Eliseo. Was he with you on the stagecoach?"

"No, our papá is the new Commandante of San Buenaventura," the boy answered, his tone bursting with pride. "He had to report right away. He will send for us after Mamá has the baby."

Zorro arched an eyebrow under the mask and felt his friend's questioning glance. Somehow, he sensed the sooner they got Eliseo and Evangelina safely to the mission, the better. He did not need an angry and worried capitán hunting him in the mistaken belief the fox abducted his children.

"Why were you traveling then?" the padre inquired.

"Mamá wanted us all to be together on Christmas," Evangelina replied.

The padre smiled. "I understand that sentiment."

"We were supposed to surprise him," Eliseo added, "but not this type of surprise."

Zorro squeezed the boy's shoulder. "We will send word to him."

"The bandidos had a friend in San Fernando deliver a ransom note to our papá." Eliseo twisted in the saddle to look at the masked man. He crinkled his forehead and frowned. "They probably told him Mamá is dead, too. The devils wanted to free their murderous cousin." He shared a confident smile with his sister. "Papá will come for us."

A sudden chill traced along Zorro's spine. "Where was this meeting to take place?"

Eliseo shrugged. "They did not say in front of us. Only that it was to be at ten this morning."

That was less than an hour from now. Zorro's mind raced with a series of calculations. The bandidos had consumed quite a bit of brandy by the time he discovered them. If the note was delivered to its recipient that same evening, it gave the children's father more than ample time to arrive as far south as Los Angeles, especially if he obtained fresh mounts from the San Fernando cuartel.

Whether he was traveling solo with a prisoner to exchange for his children or accompanied by a full regiment of troops, Zorro did not want to cross paths with Commandante Zavala.

The ground suddenly vibrated beneath them.

Padre Felipe paled. "What is that?"

"Horses," Zorro answered. The riders were approaching fast and hard. "But they are not those of Sergeant Garcia and his men." He also doubted they belonged to his father and the hacendados.

"You should go, my friend," Padre Felipe urged, reading his thoughts.

Tornado danced anxiously. Zorro tried to calm him. "I will not leave you here defenseless." He scanned their environment, silently cursing the dense rocks and brush. In the blink of an eye, an ocean of red and blue uniforms appeared.

Armed soldiers surrounded them. The lead officer sprung from the saddle before his horse stopped and leveled a pistol at the masked man's head. "Release the boy. At this range, I do not miss."

* * *

"Ah, Don Alejandro, I take it you have not found any sign of the children yet?" Sergeant Garcia inquired. He smiled and wiggled his fingers at Bernardo.

The hacendado exhaled a heavy sigh. "I am afraid not. Workers from my rancho have dispersed all over the area. Don Nacho is also lending every bit of assistance he can."

"I hope Zorro located the niños," Garcia said, "or they would certainly have frozen to death." He rubbed his ample belly. "I have all this padding to keep me warm and I nearly turned to ice."

A soft smile crossed Alejandro's lips. He also prayed his son was successful. "Zorro has not failed–"

"Sergeant! Sergeant!" Galloping hooves rumbled in their direction. Corporal Reyes rode directly toward them with a tenacity Alejandro had never before seen on the sleepy soldier. "Sergeant Garcia, there are lancers just over the hill!"

"So?" Garcia asked. "There are lancers everywhere."

"These are not just any lancers," Reyes replied, almost out of breath. "There is an officer—maybe a capitán—in white trousers and he has Zorro surrounded."

Alejandro's chest tightened and for a brief second, he felt lightheaded. It couldn't be true. Reyes must have misinterpreted what he saw. He stole a glimpse in Bernardo's direction. Color drained from the mute's face and the don noticed him gripping the reins tighter, his hands shaking.

He looked down to find his own hands trembling.

To hell with propriety! He had to get to his son! Alejandro swallowed the choking fear threatening to envelope him and dug his heels into his Palomino's sides. Everardo responded, kicking up a cloud of dust in his wake. Bernardo followed at his elbow.

Alejandro vaguely heard Garcia calling out from behind, "Wait for me, Señores."

* * *

Capitán Zavala held the pistol steady. Keeping his eyes trained on the scene, he observed his daughter in a buggy with a padre and his son in the clutches of a masked bandit. What type of swine abducts children and men of the cloth? He reminded himself the priest could be a bandit in disguise. "I will repeat it only once more. Release the boy."

"No, Papá," Eliseo cried, squirming in the saddle.

To Zavala's surprise, the masker helped his son from the stallion. At the same time, his daughter climbed down from the vehicle, shedding a black jacket, and both raced to him. The capitán knelt and gathered the two of them into his arms. He kissed the top of Evangelina's head and hugged them both tighter, almost afraid to let go.

Loosening his grip to get a better look at his children, they muttered something about a fox, but it was lost on his ears as he focused on their faces; faces he feared he would never see again. His little Lina, coated in layers of dirt, had tear-streaked cheeks and small scratches marring her chin. Her dark hair came untucked from her braids. His Eliseo had cuts on his forehead and an ugly bruise forming on his cheek. The capitán's blood boiled; someone struck his son.

"Slow down, both of you," he advised. "Now, what is it you are trying to tell me?"

"Papá, you cannot arrest Señor Zorro," Eliseo replied.

"Sí, Papá," Evangelina nodded, "please do not hurt Señor Zorro."

Zavala raised an eyebrow. "Zorro?" He glanced at the masked man.

The rumbling of approaching horses drew his attention. Zavala peered over his shoulder. A silver-haired hacendado and his servant came to a stop. The older man visibly paled. Following shortly behind them, a regiment of soldiers led by a familiar rotund sergeant halted. Zavala met Garcia not long ago on his way to take command in San Buenaventura.

"Ah, you have found the niños!" Garcia's eyes widened. "Madre de Dios, you captured Zorro!"

"Papá, you cannot arrest Zorro," Eliseo interrupted, tugging on his father's uniform. "He saved us."

"The children are telling the truth." Zavala looked to the source of the new voice. The padre in the buggy grinned. "Zorro saved the children's lives, just as he saved mine."

"If this is true, where are the bandidos who abducted my children?" Zavala inquired.

Eliseo beamed. "Zorro captured them after we escaped."

"They are sitting in my jail cell," Garcia answered.

The capitán rose to his full height. None of this made any sense. "How did they get to your jail?"

"I believe I can explain, Capitán," the padre chimed in. "One of the Indians from the mission joined me in the search for your children. We stumbled across the bandidos and they would have killed us if Zorro had not intervened. It seems Eliseo and Evangelina managed to escape before we arrived."

Zavala glanced at his son who wore a proud look, the dimples prominent on his smiling cheeks.

"Quirino, the Indian who accompanied me," the padre continued, "transported the bandidos to the soldiers while Zorro and I pressed forth in the search for the children. He found them, cold and pale, seeking shelter in some bushes. If not for him, they would have frozen to death."

"It would not be right to arrest him," Eliseo persisted.

"I will be the judge of that, mi hijo." Zavala gazed at the fox. "Dismount, Señor."

Protests rang out from Eliseo, Sergeant Garcia, the hacendado and the padre. Even his Evangelina whispered a soft "No, Papá." He raised a single hand to silence them.

Without hesitation, the bandit complied. Zavala instructed his children to stay put and slowly stepped toward the figure dressed in black from head to toe, keeping the pistol in his grasp lowered at his side. The stallion the color of coal snorted and kicked the dirt as the officer grew closer. Zorro reached out and patted the animal's neck to calm him.

Zavala came to a stop mere feet from the masked face, mindful of the large horse's distrust. Despite the overwhelming odds stacked against him, Zorro stood tall and confident, his shoulders steady and hand resting casually on the hilt of his sword. He made no move to draw in defense. Only a flash of concern shone in his hazel eyes, exposing well-hidden anxiety.

"So you are the infamous el Zorro."

The fox nodded. As they locked gazes, the tension swirling around them thickened. Bated breaths from the observers behind him were deafening. Zavala felt the burning stares aimed squarely on his back and his children's silent pleas tugging at his heart.

Wanted posters for the outlaw before him were displayed from San Diego to Sonoma. With a single word to his men, Zavala could propel his career to new heights. But he would never give that word.

He owed this man everything.

"I am Capitán Jeremías Antonio Zavala, Commandante of the Pueblo de San Buenaventura." He spoke softly, but it sounded loud to his ears amid the hush. "Thank you for saving my children. I am forever in your debt." He shifted the pistol to his left hand and proffered his right. Zorro glimpsed it briefly before grasping it in a firm handshake.

Zavala glanced over his shoulder. "Lancers, lower your weapons. Señor Zorro is free to ride. If any of you feel different, you will face a court martial."

The fox remained unmoving, a hint of surprise tugging at his mouth.

Zavala grinned. "I would suggest not lingering about too long."

"Gracias, Capitán." Zorro swung onto the stallion and saluted. "Feliz Navidad, Señores." He looked to the children, the horse dancing anxiously. "Feliz Navidad, Eliseo and Evangelina."

Zavala watched the legend ride off, the cape fluttering in the breeze. When they reached the top of a hill, the horse reared high into the air and the fox waved. Eliseo and Evangelina waved back. The capitán quirked an eyebrow; even Sergeant Garcia wiggled his fingers.

"He knows how to make an exit," Zavala said aloud to no one in particular.

"That he does," the padre replied, beaming with a smile.

Evangelina's soft steps padded closer and she slipped her small hand into her father's. He squeezed it tighter before tucking the pistol away and lifting her up into his arms. "Can we go see Mamá now?" she asked.

Those big brown eyes—eyes so similar to Susana's—were brimming with hope. A sharp pain stabbed him in the heart, as if a dagger had been thrust deep between his ribs. They didn't know…

Since receiving the note that would haunt him forever, Zavala concentrated on the task at hand, afraid his grief would consume him whole if he stopped for even a second. In the overwhelming joy of finding his children alive and safe, the sorrow faded away. Now it rushed forth like a raging river.

"Oh, my little Lina," his voice cracked.

"Si, Papá," Eliseo joined them, "We need to get to the mission."

"The mission?" he repeated. Did they know? Had his wife already been buried?

The padre cleared his throat, drawing the officer's attention. "I have explained to the children how Sergeant Garcia and his soldiers brought your injured wife to the Mission San Gabriel. She was left in the care of the doctor and still with child. I do not know of her current condition."

Zavala fought back tears of bliss. "My Susana is alive?"

"Si, as of yesterday, Capitán," the padre replied.

He kissed his daughter's forehead and tousled his son's hair. "Then what are we waiting here for?"

Evangelina squirmed to be let down. "I will ride with Padre Felipe." She barely finished speaking the words when she turned and sprinted toward the buggy. Once inside, the girl pulled the black jacket she discarded earlier around her shoulders.

"You are with me, mi hijo." Zavala swung on the saddle behind Eliseo. He studied the company of soldiers under his command. "Lancers, those of you assigned to San Fernando are to return immediately to your cuartel."

They saluted and rode off.

"Lieutenant, make contact with Capitán Echevarría at the San Vincente Pass. Explain the situation to him, take custody of Garza and escort him and our men to San Buenaventura. You are in charge during my absence."

"Sí, mi Capitán," the lieutenant replied. He saluted and grinned. "Feliz Navidad."

Zavala echoed the greeting and then focused on Sergeant Garcia and his troops. These were the men who came to his wife's aid. "Sergeant, you have my upmost thanks. You are free to resume your duties."

"We would like go with you, Capitán," Garcia said, "and learn how the señora is doing."

He could not refuse such a request. "Very well." He noticed the hacendado and the servant slipping toward the back of the group and he presumed they would depart for home. Zavala dug his knees into the horse and proceeded to the mission, fighting the urge to gallop at full speed.

No way in hell was he about to let his daughter out of his sight right now.

* * *

The caravan stopped outside the residential quarters of the mission. Zavala dismounted from the saddle and helped his son down. Evangelina raced from the buggy.

Padre Felipe pointed to the door on the end. "The señora is in the first room."

The capitán made a beeline for his wife. When his children started to follow, he pivoted and crouched to their eye level. He did not know what he would find inside the room.

"Both of you wait here with Padre Felipe," he instructed. When they began to open their mouths, he cut them short. "No arguments." He chuckled when Eliseo frowned. "And no pouting."

The boy crinkled his nose. "Now you sound like Mamá."

Zavala laughed. "Your mother would be proud to hear it." He straightened and walked toward the door, his stride growing longer and more impatient with each step. Hand on the knob, he took a deep breath and entered.

Warm air assailed his senses, a stark contrast to the crisp breeze outside. An older man dozed in a chair, his elbow on the armrest and his head cupped in his palm. The noise startled him and the elbow slipped. Zavala ignored him and went to the woman lying in the bed. "Oh, my dear Susana."

He knelt beside his wife, taking her pale hand. An ugly bruise formed over a bump on her forehead and scratches covered her beautiful face. A splint encased one arm. Zavala traced a finger along her cheek. "Oh, mi amada," he whispered. "I am here."

His eyes moved to where her swollen belly used to be. He raised her hand to his lips and kissed her fingers as his other hand settled on the blanket where their unborn baby should be. Tears stung his eyes. Blinking them back, they fell down his cheeks.

Susana's eyes fluttered open. "Jeremiás," she rasped. "Our babies…"

"Eliseo and Evangelina are safe. They are just outside the door."

"You will be proud, mi marido," she managed before drifting off.

"Susana?" Zavala instinctively searched for a pulse and exhaled in relief upon feeling the beats.

"I presume you are the husband." Zavala jerked his head around at the voice to find the older man standing at the foot of the bed. "I am Doctor Avilla. I have been caring for your wife."

He stood, reluctantly letting go of his beloved's hand and dried his eyes. "Gracias, Doctor. I am Jeremiás Zavala and this is my wife, Susana." He glanced at the missing bump again. "She was eight…" he ran shaky fingers through his hair, fumbling with the words, "eight months pregnant. Will she be all right?"

"I expect your wife to make a full recovery. She is exhausted and needs her rest." The physician smiled. "The señora gave birth a few hours ago. Congratulations, Capitán."

"Birth?" Zavala's eyes darted up. "Did the baby survive? Is it healthy?"

Avilla's smile grew wider and he motioned for the father to follow him. Zavala peered at his wife, hesitant to leave her side. "I assure you she will be fine, Capitán. Please, come with me."

He did as requested. The doctor led him into the next room. Two Indian women sat in rocking chairs, each cradling a bundle wrapped in white blankets.

"I would like to introduce you to Paloma," Avilla indicated the younger Indian, "and her sister, Concepción. In Paloma's arms you will find your daughter and Concepción is holding your son."

"A daughter and a son?" Zavala stared at the scene, comprehension slowly dawning on him. "There are two of them? Twins? I-I am the father of twins?"

"Si, twins," Avilla confirmed, "and with very healthy lungs, I might add, though they are quiet at the moment. I imagine not a soul within miles was sleeping an hour ago."

The women shared a giggle and the mesmerized father moved closer to his daughter. His heart swelled with pride at the slumbering pink form. Zavala gently pulled each tiny hand free of the blanket and counted the fingers. He went to his son and did the same.

Gasps sounded as the door creaked open. Zavala glanced over his shoulder and spied Eliseo and Evangelina sticking their heads into the room. He chuckled and motioned for them to come in. "It seems you both got your wish," he whispered, not wishing to wake his babies. "Evangelina, you got the sister you desired. Eliseo, you got the brother you wanted."

His older children's eyes lit up. "Two?" they muttered in unison.

"Sí, two," he reaffirmed. He suddenly noticed how filthy they appeared and ushered them from the room. "Both of you are in need of a bath. Then you can pay your siblings a longer visit, if the doctor gives his approval."

"Sí, Papá," they replied together again.

Padre Felipe, who tailed behind them, stepped closer. "I think we can see to that."

Evangelina took her father's hand. "Can we see Mamá first?"

Zavala deferred to the doctor for guidance.

Avilla nodded. "That would be fine, but only for a moment. She needs her rest." He addressed the children. "Your mother has been inquiring about you."

Capitán Zavala opened the door. Eliseo and Evangelina peeked in cautiously before running to their mother's side. Evangelina took her hand and Eliseo kissed her on the cheek.

Susana stirred awake, more alert than she had been earlier. "Oh, my Lina and Seo, you are safe." She raised a week hand to touch each of their faces. "I love you, mi hija and mi hijo."

"We love you, too, Mamá," Eliseo replied.

"Sí, and we love our baby brother and sister," Evangelina said.

"That is enough excitement for the patient right now," the doctor stated. He herded the young ones from the room and Padre Felipe could be heard ordering them to the bathtubs. "I will give you a few more minutes, Capitán."

Zavala nodded his appreciation. Alone together, he kissed his wife.

Susana fought back tears. "I am so sorry, Jeremiás. I should never–"

He placed a finger over her lips. "Shh, do not fret, mi amada. It only matters that you are all safe." He caressed her cheek. "Your wish came true, Susana. We will be together for Christmas," he glanced toward the wall separating the two rooms and affected a lopsided grin, "All six of us."


	4. Chapter 4

**Miracles Wear Black**

**Chapter 4  
"Celebration"**

On the twelfth day of Christmas, laughter filled the de la Vega hacienda as friends gathered to celebrate the feast of Epiphany. Bright red poinsettias lined the sala and the patio. Bouquets of colorful flowers decorated the tables. The scent of evergreen and pinecones, a de la Vega family tradition, entwined with the delicious aromas of dinner.

When morning dawned, Eliseo and Evangelina sprang from bed to check the shoes they left on the balcony the previous night, eager to see what gifts the Three Wise Men left. Both darted to their parents with large smiles, anxious to show them the gold coins and sweets bestowed upon them.

The day passed by with fun and games. Music filled the air and they all took swings at a piñata. The activities only came to an end when Maria and Cresencia served dinner.

As the last bites were consumed, Diego sipped the remaining drops of Rioja from his crystal goblet and joined Eliseo on the floor where he fought a losing battle with the puzzle pieces. He suppressed a grin as the boy tried to shove the blocks of wood together in the most awkward of angles.

"How am I supposed to get these pieces back into a cube?" Eliseo muttered.

"Why do not you take them to Bernardo," Diego advised, picking up another of the wooden toys. "He is very good with puzzles. I am sure he can show you the trick."

Eliseo collected all the blocks in his hands, struggling not to drop them, and searched the room for the deaf mute. Bernardo returned from the cellar with a bottle of wine and barely caught the pieces as they went spilling out of the boy's grasp. He placed them on the serving table.

"Gracias," Eliseo muttered, holding up two blocks and shrugging his confusion.

Bernardo pointed to his chest as if asking 'me?'

Eliseo nodded. His eyes grew round and his jaw dropped open as he watched the fingers magically fit the pieces together. Bernardo presented him a perfect cube. "How did you–" Eliseo began, but stopped and turned to Diego. "How did he do that?"

"Bernardo is a man of many talents. Even I do not know everything he is capable of." Diego shared a wink with his father. "He has been making puzzles since before I met him."

Eliseo smiled at Bernardo to show his gratitude and rejoined Diego on the floor.

Alejandro scooted his chair away from the head of the table, his face beaming in a way Diego had not seen in many years. Only when his mother was still alive did he recall his father looking so happy. The hacendado appeared ten years younger as he savored the merriment in his house.

Sitting at the older don's elbow, Capitán Zavala held his newborn daughter in his arms. Cresencia lingered close behind him, as if the officer had never held a child before. Susana moved to the cushioned chair by the window where she cradled her newborn son in her good arm, the other still encased in a splint. Maria hovered nearby in case the mother needed anything. Evangelina, clutching her new doll, sat at her mother's side.

Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes occupied the far end of the table, making certain no morsels went abandoned. Padre Felipe sat across from them in awe of their appetites. The padre did not often eat in the company of the soldiers.

He rose from his chair and passed the young don on the way to the couch. "I am beginning to think you may have been correct, Diego," the padre whispered. "With the sergeant's appetite, he might just have sniffed out those cookies at the mission."

Diego could not stop the laugh from escaping his lips. He twirled the wooden globe in his grasp, dismantled the pieces and put it back together without difficulty. Eliseo gaped at him.

"You are good with puzzles, too, Don Diego," he exclaimed.

"Am I?" Diego replied. "Bernardo's talents must have rubbed off on me."

"I want to try." Evangelina moved next to her brother and selected a rectangular puzzle. The two siblings competed to see who could reassemble theirs again first.

The infant in Capitán Zavala's arm began to fuss. "I will tend to little Paloma for you," Cresencia said, wasting no time swooping in and claiming the girl. He arched an amused eyebrow, but did not argue with the housekeeper.

Garcia pulled the turkey leg away from his mouth. "That is a pretty name."

"Ah, that reminds me, Sergeant," Zavala grinned, "You have not yet heard the names we selected. Our daughter is Paloma Maria Concepción and our son is Demetrio Felipe."

Garcia's eyes lit up. "Demetrio?"

"Sí, Sergeant," Susana confirmed. "Padre Felipe has told us how you came to my rescue. It means a great deal to both my husband and me. It is the least we can do to show our thanks."

"I am very flattered, Señora," Garcia replied, his cheeks blushing.

"What about the name Donato?" Reyes asked. "I was there, too." The corporal released a small yelp as a commotion sounded from under the table. Diego chuckled, spying the kick from the sergeant between the legs of the chairs, and exchanged a knowing glance with the padre.

Bernardo soothed the tumult by topping off the wine.

Capitán Zavala stood at the table, goblet in hand, and cleared his throat. "If I may have your attention," he paused, "I would like to take this opportunity to make a toast to new friends, Padre Felipe, Sergeant Garcia and Corporal Reyes."

The two soldiers exchanged looks of surprise.

"This time would not be Christmas for me without your devotion to duty." Zavala turned to his hosts. "And to Don Alejandro and Don Diego, who have graciously opened their home to my family during my wife's recovery. It cannot be an easy adjustment, especially living with twins."

Alejandro rose to his feet. "It is we who should be thanking you, Capitán. It has been far too long since our hacienda has been filled with this much joy. I cannot recall a better holiday in recent memory. It is the sound of children that makes it special." He peered at his son, eyes glittering. "Think of it, Diego, next year I could have my own little one to bounce on my knee."

Diego arched a mischievous eyebrow. "I always did want a brother or sister."

Laughter filled the sala and Alejandro playfully shook his head. "You know what I meant, mi hijo, grandchildren! You get along wonderfully with Eliseo and Evangelina. Has this experience not inspired the desire to have your own little ones to play with and to guide through life? Rocking them to sleep, getting up late at night to soothe their cries…"

"You almost had him, Don Alejandro," Susana teased, "until the mention of the crying. You son is a natural with Seo and Lina, but when the babies cry, he gets the same frightened expression as my Jeremías did when Eliseo was born."

The boy's ears perked up. "You were afraid of me, Papá?"

The capitán shifted uncomfortably. "I am the youngest in my family. I had never been around a baby before and you were so little I was terrified I might hurt you."

"What about me?" Evangelina asked. "Were you afraid of me, Papá?"

"No, I was never afraid of you, my little Lina," Zavala answered. "After I dropped your brother a few times, I realized infants are not quite as delicate as they seem."

Eliseo stared at his father in horror. "You dropped me?"

"Only once or twice," Zavala replied, keeping a straight face.

"He is only joking, mi hijo," Susana interjected, narrowing eyes at her husband. "If he had dropped you, I would have hit him so hard he would still have the dent on his skull."

"Sí, mi hijo, I am only joking," Zavala added, chuckling at his son's reaction.

Susana rocked the fussy son in her arm. "Don Alejandro, you and Don Diego must visit us when we get settled in our new home in San Buenaventura."

Diego climbed to his feet and joined his father at the table, who accepted the invitation. He pushed a twig of evergreen away from the edge, recalling the story his parents used to tell him as to how it became a family tradition.

As the young couple departed Spain, Alejandro was eager to show the land he called home to his new wife. On their first Christmas Eve in California, they traveled into the mountains for what was to be an afternoon outing. The weather had other plans in store, however, forcing them to take cover in a cave where they kept warm in the heat of a crackling fire.

Isabella marveled at the rich greenery of the trees coated in a fresh blanket of snow and delighted in the scent of pinecones. Raised in Barcelona, it was all new for her. She fell in love with this strange land just as she fell in love with her husband. From that moment on, Alejandro made certain evergreen branches and pinecones were part of their Christmas celebrations.

Diego gazed at the twig again. It was a tradition he wished to pass onto his own children one day. He met his father's eyes. "I hope to give you those grandchildren, Father."

"Saints be praised," Alejandro exclaimed, wrapping an arm around his son's shoulders. "It warms my heart to hear you say it. Those words are the second best gift you can give me."

Zavala grinned and exchanged a knowing look with Alejandro. "You will never regret it, Diego. There is no more rewarding pursuit in life than being a father. Ah, this reminds me, I would also like to toast one other to whom I am forever indebted," he raised his goblet, "To a miracle who wears black."

Reyes crinkled his forehead. "Who?"

"He means Zorro, Corporal," Garcia clarified. He scratched his stubble-covered chin. "Somehow, it does not seem right to have a wanted poster for a miracle."

"We will have to see if we can do something about that, Sergeant." Zavala chuckled. "Cheers."

Diego glanced at his father, catching a glimpse of Bernardo pouring himself a sip of wine in the background. He felt Padre Felipe's amused eyes upon him. With a lopsided grin, the fox lifted his goblet with the others and joined them in the toast. "Cheers."

**The End**

* * *

Merry Christmas, Happy Hanukkah and Season's Greetings to all. I wish everyone a safe and joyous holiday season filled with cherished memories that will last a lifetime.


End file.
